


the woodskeeper of amneth

by poalimal



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Fic in the Time of Quarantine, Gen, M/M, Nature, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: For four generations, Gabriel's family had lived in the woods of Amneth, on land the King had given them; for the god of the wood spoke to no others but them.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

_Thus did the kingdom of Biros fall to Amneth. But the Prince of Biros had proven himself brave and cunning in battle; therefore Queen Elrenne made him_ [companion] _to her eldest son, Prince Heinrin._ [...] _Some time after the coronation, King Heinrin took the Prince of Biros with him to the forest of Amneth for hunting and sport. And the forest of Amneth at this time was a lonely place: deep, dense, and dark. And no sooner had the King and the Prince stepped into the most deep, dense and dark part of the wood than did the Prince of Biros fall from his horse. And he thrashed to and fro in a frenzy, and was nearly trampled by his horse. Finally he went still, as if in the embrace of death. And the King jumped down from his horse to wake the Prince; however, the Prince did not stir. And the King wept aloud and repented in his heart for all his wickedness, for he loved the Prince of Biros dearly. And he begged any god that would listen to restore his_ [companion] _to him. By and by the_ [spirit] _returned to the Prince's face, until at last he gasped and awoke once more. 'Your Majesty!' he said, holding fast to the King. 'I have seen something which I do not understand. I was riding with you in the wood when I saw a horned antolle before me. But when I went to raise my arrow, I fell from my horse somehow, and all became dark. It was then that a voice said to me:_ you shall keep this land for him. _And I said:_ what land, my lord? _For I could tell I was speaking with a great lord of some kind. And the voice said:_ the land upon which you stand. _And I said:_ oh, my lord, you must be mistaken - I am barely fit to stand in your presence, how can I possibly tend to the land which you have given your holy servant the King? _And the voice said:_ It is because of your love for the King that you must live on this land. For none other could love him as you do, nor love this land as you must. _Your Majesty, whatever could this mean?'_

 _And the King saw that his prayer had been answered by the god of the forest; and that the god of the forest had returned his_ [companion] _to him, and was now taking him away. He therefore decreed that the land of the wood be given_ [in lease] _to the Prince of Biros and his family, that they would continue to keep the land as it was meant to be kept, in keeping with their love for the king and this country._

_\--_ The Histories: From Queen Aramneth to King Heinrin II, Volume IV, Revised.


	2. Chapter 2

**MATHAS**  
in the fifth year of King Heinrin V's reign

SUMMER LEFT AMNETH SLOWLY. The bees were generous with their honey - the woolly tree shed patiently - the wily boar bathed in mud. Gabriel had ample time to prepare for winter... which was fortunate, for the abundance of treenuts and acorns on the forest floor promised a heavy one.

Near the loghouse, he expanded his plot of pepperplant, beet, and onion, and put down broccoli, carrot, radish, fava, peeling potato, and garlic. The cabbage and summerbean had come in well, so he cured into kraut the first and dried within glass the second. 

He strengthened the fence behind the house, lining it with limegrass and ashling waste in hopes of keeping hungry antolle and rodents out of the garden. He lost nearly a week of time in maintenance: caulking in holes, redirecting the ants, cleaning and restaining the logs, reinforcing deterrence runes. He knew the days were not lost, really, that it was all time well spent; that otherwise his home would rot through the winter. It was an old anxiety he had, that was all. He was certainly glad when he was done with it, and out in the wood preparing again.

He noticed the pheasants and quail were less abundant that year - the king had permitted more hunting parties than he did usually - but Gabriel killed and cured a great many windenbirds: beautiful pests. The redbreasted chicken were plentiful, and he lived well off their meat and eggs.

In the night, he heard the sound of heavy wings beating in the air. He found owl pellets, later, near his home.

* * *

Was he cunning, as his grandmother had wished? Gabriel thought of such things, lately.

* * *

Up on the mountain, the sweetgrass and blueshrub Gabriel had planted had taken well - hopefully next year's foals wouldn't be quite so skinny. Flocks of antolle roamed ever more widely, and that surely put them in competition for the horses' food supply. He killed two antolle bucks and planted hardy shrub in each place they died. He stewed the meat of one and cured the meat of the other, tanning their skin and bronzing their bones for selling. Other than simply killing many more antolle than he could possibly use, he couldn't think of a single tactic that would keep them off the mountain that would not also stress the horses. 

After a few nights' consideration, he replanted some foxberry among the mountain trees, and dug out a few potential burrows. Perhaps it would draw a few foxes upland. Foxes were known to take down isolated antolle, and so might serve as a deterrent. They also generally left the horses alone, possibly because of the massive size difference. Well - who knew if it would do anything? His grandfather had never liked these experiments of his very much, and said he was much too interfering. He'd just need to keep an eye on the newborn foals in spring to see if it helped at all.

* * *

'You are more like your great-grandfather than you know,' his mother told him once. 'He was of an inquisitive spirit, too, just like yourself. He was always asking why something worked the way that it did. Even to the end, that is what I remember: he always asked why.'

* * *

Out in the wood Gabriel gathered a great many mushrooms. He began slowly burning detritus and ashing the forest floor, according to his great-grandfather's itinerary. He saw the old one-eyed rabbit had managed another year and another litter of kits, though she could not lately move well, so Gabriel left her seedlings, clover, and forb outside her warren. The squirrel and the soon did not fear him at all, and stole acorns straight from his hands. Seemed it would be a heavy winter indeed.   
  
He wore his bells about his waist, and noted carefully the signs he saw of wolves; of ashlings; of the witch.  
  
Up on the crested hill, where the sun always summered, he gathered glass from the sandtrees for selling. The hill got plenty of sun, and the sandtrees only amplified it, but he still hadn't had any success with planting okra in the wild. The soil was simply too bitter, and the weather simply too cool. Bad luck. Between the okra and the ginger in his glassbox, he was running out of space. He had a mind to buy another glassbox, the next time he went down the mountain.

* * *

On the edge of the valley, between the old orchard and the copse, Gabriel picked as many covals, apples, and dry branches as he could wheel home. He spent a few days this way, replenishing his stores of jams, dried fruit, and kindling. On one such trip to the orchard, he encountered Pepper, who was always happy to see him. He fed her half of an apple from the top of the tree, for the ones that dropped to the ground were often sour or rotten. She hopped happily all about him, butting at his legs when he tried to leave. 

Later she led him a little ways away in the copse, where she showed him her kids: one speckled grey, and the other pepper red like her mother. He offered them apple halves, too - they seemed much more interested in eating the shrubs and, eventually, the salt stone that Gabriel carried in his pocket. All three of them followed him back to the loghouse, which Pepper seemed to remember well. 

As always, she loved the sunflower seeds he gave her. The kids cried till he gave them more salt stone. They seemed to be weaning, he noticed; at least Pepper seemed relieved by him milking her. Afterward he rubbed mint salve onto her bad leg, which helped her move more easily. He watched her and her kids run away until he could not see them anymore. Out of sheer impatience, he drank half the milk she'd given; he baked the rest for later.

* * *

Down near the lake, the swamp rice he'd planted was faithful. So were the waterfowl who ate it: ducks, geese, and swile. He harvested some rice stalks for himself, then planted more on the other side of the lake. This was to prevent crowding between the swile and the geese, who simply did not get along. But geese didn't get along with anyone, really; and their memory was just so long! Gabriel had tried to shoot one goose years and years ago, when he was just a child - even now, they recognised him. Unless he had sulfam or broccoli on him, they always tried to take his eyes out. The ducks were much more peaceable, though they were so curious and calm around him that he did not like to kill them. The swile, however - like the windenbird - had been introduced into the woods of Amneth by the royal family, and they ate into the food supply of almost every other bird. Gabriel had no compunctions about killing them.   
  
The trout and milkfish were abundant that season, and he caught and froze many of both, feeding flaked tacin and algae to their siblings. The beavers were busy as ever, readying for the cold. Sometimes he looked on them in the early evening as he pruned the hilly oak he'd been trying to regrow. As Gabriel did once every season, he left sunberries, treenuts and acorns near the edge of the lake, near their lodge. He had no doubt the beavers were eating well off the treenuts and acorns already, now that the season was changed, but the sunberries grew way up on the mountain - finicky - where all the stonehawk lived. He liked the thought of giving the beavers something to welcome the cold.

* * *

'You must be like the beaver,' his grandfather had always said: 'industrious and oft prepared.'

'No, you must be like the owl,' his grandmother had said once: 'cunning and lonely.'

'Should I really be lonely, like Grandma said?' he'd asked his mother later. He had not known, then, what cunning was.

'Oh, don't listen to her,' his mother had said, tucking him in tight. For he had been very young. 'You never have to worry about being lonely. We Birosi are the people with no road, you know - we are never really alone!'

* * *

Near the graves of his family, Gabriel planted hyacinth, chamomile... and argem, for his mother had loved the colour.

And each night, as he did always, he looked up at the stars between the trees, and spoke to the god of the wood, asking for his counsel. 

The god of the wood never replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heaps of logistical errors in this, to be honest. 
> 
> I. [This video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UV10Wt30IGE) was one of several excellent resources I used in writing this chapter.  
> II. Baked cow's milk 'is a variety of boiled milk... made by simmering milk on low heat for eight hours or longer.' Not sure if baked _goat's_ milk would be any good.


End file.
